Yesterday I rambled to the top of peak,
Viewing a thousand feet cliff left below.
On the edge of danger—one lonely tree;
Swayed in the wind, it is split for two branches.
Shaken by the rain, its leaves scattered and fell;
Dried out then by the sun, they turned into dust.
I heave a sigh, seeing that the luxuriant growth
Today has come to be a heap of grey ash.
..but I believe our mark is left...and felt...the energy lives on...
Diana....
Ron